


Share My Memory

by ready_to_kick_some_ass



Series: Season 6 Fics [4]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Childhood Memories, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Mind Prison, Reunions, Season 06 Episode 06, Season/Series 06, This was written in a rush and is just me playing around with ideas really, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-22
Updated: 2019-06-23
Packaged: 2020-05-16 16:05:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19321525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ready_to_kick_some_ass/pseuds/ready_to_kick_some_ass
Summary: Enoch takes longer to get Fitz and Jemma out of the mind prison. They share more memories - good and bad - while trying to not lose control and slip in too deep.(Spoilers for Episode 6 of Season 6)





	1. Chapter 1

Fitz opens his eyes and blinks into beams of sunlight that are falling through a huge window.  
Dust motes are floating around the room like snowflakes. Faintly, he can hear noises of traffic. Somewhere close, a woman laughs and murmurs follow. The words, spoken in an unfamiliar language, muffled through the walls.

Fitz frowns. He feels slightly out of place. As he should be somewhere else right now. But he can’t really grasp the thought. And why should he even bother. _This_ is perfectly fine. He just woke up from a restful night, feeling refreshed. The hotel bed he’s lying on is remarkably soft. The sheets are tangled around him. He’s only wearing his boxers, the night has been mild. They have shared their body warmth. Yes. This night, they have shared everyhing with each other. Warm touches and heated glances. Their hearts and souls.

He and …

_Jemma._

Yes. They have shared their warmth and their love. Their first time happened in this room. But … not really. He can remember other times. How …

Fitz realizes with sudden painful clarity, that _this_ isn’t real. The hazy curtain of confusion lifts. The worrisome thoughts come back, gone is the peace of the situation.

He’s trapped. Inside a mind prison.

Before this, before the sunlight and the warmth, there was darkness. A darkness, into which he jumped with Jemma’s hand in his, ready to fight their lurking demons, only to find them in the tightest embrace possible, their limbs intertwined, their lips sealed to each other … A disturbing sight. But in a glimpse, it was all gone and this appeared. This is a memory they both share. It’s –

“Bucharest,” Fitz murmurs, turning on his back. He reaches his hand out, searching. His fingers brush soft skin and his heart seems to jump a happy loop in his chest. “Jemma …”

He turns his head to look at her. Jemma’s facing him, propped up on her arm. She smiles at him. In the soft light her eyes sparkle in shades of hazel and amber. She’s so beautiful. Fitz wants to tell her and remembers faintly, that he told her when this actually happened too, but instead, a question finds its way out of his confused – _trapped_ – mind.

“Jemma. Why this?”

“I was happy,” Jemma says, reaching out to draw circles on Fitz’s hip with the tip of her finger. “I was happy, and I felt like nothing could get in our way.”

“I was happy too,” Fitz says quietly. He remembers – _feels_ – last night’s sensations reverberating in his mind and his body. Love, still fresh, blooming in intense colours like a cherry tree. A fire in his veins. The taste of Jemma still on his lips. The sight of her pleasure, the blush on her cheeks, her parted lips … A shiver runs over his spine down to his toes and he feels arousal pooling in his belly. He smiles, when he remembers something else. God, he has been nervous … Nervous in a forgetting-how-to-breathe way. “I was a little scared you won't enjoy it,” he tells Jemma.

She laughs. “Oh Fitz. It was amazing. You were so sweet. You checked in on me the whole time. And you kept asking me if it was alright if you touched me in a very polite way."

Fitz smiles, sure that he’s blushing right now. As if they didn’t made love to each other often enough after this very first time … “I wanted it to be good for you.”

“And it was,” Jemma says. “I think it’s one of my best memories. We were so close … Everything felt right. And I liked that we could laugh about what was happening. It wasn't all that serious. It was us and we were comfortable with everything and that's the most important thing, right?” Her hand strokes from his hip to his shoulder, up to cup his face. He leans into her touch and sighs. "Yeah. Being comfortable is most important."

Jemma smiles and kisses him. Soft lips and warm breath. God he missed this - her - _them_. Missed it so much. He’s so glad they are together and able to talk, to touch; he can’t even bring himself to care that this isn’t really happening. Not now.

He kisses Jemma back and she makes a tiny desperate noise in the back of her throat. Her hand coming up to run through his hair, holding on tightly, like she’s scared he could be gone any moment. A sharp pang of pain rushes through him when he remembers that for her, he _was_ gone for a long time – A body bag on a table. Everyone talking in hushed voices. Coulson ... Daisy handing Jemma a ring. The cold shock of seeing his own body. – and he wraps his arms around Jemma firmly, feeling the overwhelming need to hold her forever, to never let her go again.

When they part to take some breaths, their eyes lock and Fitz sees a shadow in Jemma’s that makes his stomach clench.

She takes a deep breath and wipes a lost strand of hair out of her forehead, her hand trembling slightly. “All these nights, in which I woke up and you weren’t there. I can’t do it again, Fitz. I can’t.”  
She sounds small. Haunted. Scared. What Fitz would give to take that all away from her … But once more, they fell victim to reality. It happened and now all they can do, is to try to deal with it together.

“You won’t have to get through it again,” Fitz tells Jemma, cupping her face in his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going to leave your side again.”

But to his surprise, as soon as he said those words, Jemma shivers and backs away slightly. “No. Don’t say that,” she breathes barely audible, her eyes filling with tears. “Don’t …”

“Jemma,” Fitz says confused, reaching for her. “What …”

“Just hold me,” she whispers, shaking her head and avoiding his gaze. Fitz obeys wordlessly. He pulls her close and runs his hands over her back while she’s crying silent tears into the crook of his neck.

“It’s alright,” Fitz whispers, closing his eyes, inhaling Jemma’s familiar scent. “I’m here. I  …” He pauses, suddenly feeling cold. Anxiety creeps up from the corners of his mind. _You cause pain,_ the shadow has said. Yes. He does. He does it all the time. He's the reason Jemma is crying right now. He left Jemma alone. But ... He didn’t want that. He would have never left her alone on purpose. Why wasn't he at her side from the beginning? He … He was left behind. Because … Because –

“You have to save them.” The echo of Robin's voice in his head, connected to a drawn scary picture and questions. Too many questions ...

 _You have to find them. You have to find her._  
  
_Where did they go?_

_Where are they?_

_Where did they go? Tell us._

_Tell us!_

 

* * *

 

  
“I have to find you …” Fitz says, frowning in confusion. Why did he say that. What is happening …

He gasps when he notices something changed. Jemma’s not in his arms anymore. There is no sunlight. No sounds of traffic. No hotel bed.

He’s kneeling on hard concrete and he's cold.

When Fitz opens his eyes, he looks at grey stone and his stomach drops.

_Oh no …_

He gets up on shaky legs, looking around. He knows what this is. Four walls. No windows. A desk in the corner, buried under heaps of papers and books. A cot and a thin blanket, the fabric rough, scratching skin …

His breath quickens and he feels the first hint of panic. No. He doesn’t want to be here. Not again. He can’t get through another round of questions. He can’t …  

“Fitz?”

He flinches.

It’s Jemma. She’s sitting on the cot, looking up at him with a frown.

Fitz exhales shakily.

_She’s here? But I … I’m trying to find her. Them. They are gone and I was left behind for whatever reason I don’t know and may never want to know. Because there’s always the possibility that they left me behind on purpose, because they hate me for what I did. And they have every right to despise me. The Framework, Aida … it’s all on me. I tortured Daisy. I shot Jemma. I almost killed her. Oh God …_

He presses a hand against his forehead, feeling cold sweat pooling there. He feels tired. He always feels tired when he’s in this cell.

“Fitz,” Jemma says again, louder. She’s standing in front of him now.

He wonders if she’s a hallucination. A hallucination like the Doctor, who is visiting him daily, telling him how weak and useless he is, in a mocking and terrifying imitation of his father …

But then Jemma steps closer and lays a hand on his shoulder and tells him to “Breathe, Fitz. You’re hyperventilating,” With deep worry in her voice and that’s when he realizes that he’s not really in this cell. It’s just a memory. A memory Jemma doesn’t have.

It’s his own. One of his worst.

“Why does it have to be this,” he murmurs and shivers.

Jemma looks around in the cell and her eyes widen. “Fitz. Is this where you've been while we were in space?"

Fitz sighs and nods. He feels so exhausted … “It is. And ... I think, I don’t want you to see this.”

“Oh Fitz.”

He shakes his head. This is just a mind prison. They were able to change their surroundings, to slip into other memories …  
“I should … We should … We can go somewhere else, right? Can go back to Bucharest, or … or to some other good - better - moment. We don’t have to stay here,” he says firmly, knowing all too well that he sounds like he’s begging.

Jemma studies him, her eyes filled with sadness and worry. “I … I think you’re very deep in this right now,” she says carefully. “Do you remember what happened when we slipped into it too deep the last time?”

Yes. Jemma’s shadow ripped his heart out. God. That _hurt_ …

He grimaces and looks at Jemma desperately. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Maybe … Talk about it?” Jemma suggests, biting her lip. Sad pain fills her eyes. “I know this is haunting you. I know you hid this. I … Maybe it loses some of its horrors if you share?"

Fitz swallows. He doesn't want to burden Jemma with this. But ... maybe she's right. Maybe he should stop holding things back. Especially from her. They have seen what keeping things back and hiding them could do. “I … Okay. I can try.”

Jemma nods. She looks at the desk, at an empty piece paper that’s laying there, ready to be written on. “What did they do to you?” She asks quietly.

Fitz closes his eyes, his stomach clenching when he remembers. “They asked me questions. All the time. They just came in and pulled me out to interrogate me. Sometimes it felt like minutes, sometimes like hours, sometimes … like days. They also switched the light on or off whenever they wanted. There was no pattern. Means I didn’t know when it was morning or night.”

Jemma looks like she’s close to crying again. But she's also angry, her brows furrowed. “I can’t believe they could do this. Human rights exist and someone should have..."

“Hale didn’t care about rights,” Fitz says bitterly. “She made that very clear. She didn't care if I almost fell asleep with my head on that table. She didn't care if I couldn't form a coherent sentence. All she was interested in was information about where you and the team were. And she wanted the information fast. So she didn't stop. Neither did the others. Though, that one younger woman was kind of nice. She let me take a nap sometimes and sneaked some extra food into my cell." He shrugs.

Jemma swallows. She looks utterly shocked. Her gaze falls on the rows of monkey faces drawn on one of the walls. She runs her finger over them. “How long …”

“Six months. When Hunter came, I was about to give up hope. I thought I would rot in here, without knowing what happened to you and the team. I thought I …” He exhales shakily. “I thought I would never see you again.”

 _I thought_ , he adds in silence, _I thought The Doctor would be my only company, torturing me until I would finally give up, break, not caring about anything ever again._

“Oh Fitz,” Jemma breathes, hugging him. “I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”

Fitz closes his eyes and lays his head on her shoulder. He feels heavy, overflown by emotions. All the despair, the self-hatred, the regret and guilt, it all comes back, and it crushes him. He can’t breathe … It’s his turn to sob silent, painful tears. Jemma holds him, her hands roaming over his back.

When he wipes away his tears, they hear footsteps from the distance, approaching quickly.

Fitz freezes and pales. His heart seems to falter, and his throat starts to feel tight. “That’s them,” he breathes. “They’re coming to get me.” He bends over and groans when his stomach starts to clench, pulling at his own hair. He feels sick. “I told them everything I know,” he gasps, caught in the memory. “I don’t know anything else. I … _Please_.”

Jemma swallows. She lays a hand on Fitz’s heaving back. “Hey, it’s not real, remember? As scary as this is, it is just a memory. Let’s not slip back into this madness. We can control this. _You_ can control this memory.”

“Right,” Fitz says shakily. “Right … not real.”

The steps stop in front of the cell.

“Make it go away, Fitz," Jemma tells him, looking him straight in the eye.

Fitz exhales shakily. He feels the overwhelming need to hide in a corner. But he draws strenght out of Jemma's touch. He tries to concentrate, searching through his mind for something happier, something peaceful, something …

 

* * *

 

“I think we have studied enough now,” Jemma says and sighs, rubbing her eyes.

“What?” Fitz asks, confused. He looks up, noticing he's holding a pen in his hand. He frowns and takes a look around. Oh. It’s his dorm room again. He’s sitting on the bed with Jemma, who balances a huge heap of papers on her lap. Her favourite markers in pastel colours are scattered around her.

There’s an empty pizza carton between them. In a corner, there's a little pile of crusts. Jemma always leaves them for him.

Fitz remembers. This was an evening, one week before an important exam. It was a time in which their friendship was developing fast, from merely sitting next to each other at lunch to sharing a bowl of popcorn on the bed while watching TV.

Jemma blinks. She seems to come out of the memory-changing-haze, her eyes switching back and forth between her notes and Fitz, who is wearing a cardigan again. She scrunches her nose up. “Oh. _That_ exam. Ugh. I’m still not satisfied how it turned out.”

Fitz frowns. “If I remember right, and I’m sure I do, you had an A …”

“Still. I wish I wouldn’t have ruined that one question. I _knew_ the answer, but I had a blackout due to sudden panic … Huh. I remember what we did after studying.”

“Yeah. Me too. We watched so many Doctor Who episodes you feel asleep. With your head on my shoulder,” Fitz says, grinning. “It was cute, really. You were snoring.”

Jemma gasps. “I wasn’t!”

“Yes, you were. And you drooled on my cardigan.”

Jemma blushes. “Oh my. But … You let me sleep.”

“Of course I did. Couldn’t wake you up, even if I got a cramp in my back after a while. You've looked so peaceful.”

Jemma looks at him in a way that makes him feel all warm inside. “I love you so much, Fitz.”

“I love you too,” Fitz says, reaching for her once again. They hug and this time she smells a bit after coffee and old books. He loves that smell. This is much better. It's still not real, but at least this memory isn't full of his demons. He’s glad they aren’t in that cell anymore. But he is also somehow glad he shared the memory with Jemma. He feels a bit lighter. Like he let something out of a cage inside his overloaded mind.

“We have to get out of this,” Jemma says after a while and they part. “We can’t do this forever. Our minds contain enough stuff for endless nightmares. You’ve seen how fragile this whole thing is. Unstable. One wrong thought and we land inside another horrible memory. And who knows what Altarah is going to do if we don’t give her what she wants soon. We have to get out and after, we have to decide what to do next.”

“I know,” Fitz says with a sigh. “Once we’re out of here I’d like to return to earth. I can’t stand one more day in space.” He needs to stand under a blue skye, breathing in the fresh air and feeling grass under his feet. He needs a home. A real home. Home is where Jemma is, but it's also where you can feel safe. And he can never feel safe in space, surrounded by crazy dangers which follow them wherever they go. He also vaguely figures he is in terrible need of therapy. They both do. Who knows through how many traumas they suffered by now. Jemma saying something of a terrible break echoes in his mind like a somber warning or premonition. He feels he doesn't yet know everything he missed.

“I have enough of space too,” Jemma murmurs, studying a light green marker, her brows furrowed. “I just want to go somewhere calm and safe. Somewhere I don’t have to worry about aliens or Chronicoms or ... or about losing each other ever again … Oh,” she says, her eyes widening and filling with tears. “Oh no. I think … I shouldn’t have thought about this.”

Before Fitz can ask what’s wrong, Jemma bursts into tears and everything’s slipping.

The cards are being reshuffled.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Jemma is sitting on the floor of her room at the Lighthouse, her knees drawn to her chest and her back leaning against the bed. Her body feels sore and stiff, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters. Her world is empty. She’s floating in the void, drowning in an ocean of numb silence, while also feeling like she’s standing on the edge of a deep cliff, balancing on her tiptoes, trying not to fall. Because the fall would be endless and if she ever reaches the bottom, she would perish in the flood of her bottled up emotions.

Jemma notices vaguely that there’s something cold in her hand. She opens it and sees Fitz’s ring. Jemma stares down at it and feels how she loses her balance a little bit more, dangerously close to tumbling over. She heaves out a sob.

There’s a light knock at the door. It opens and someone enters with slow hesitant steps. Jemma already knows who it is. She doesn’t look up, her gaze still fixed on the ring.

“Jemma,” Daisy says, crouching in front of her. Her voice sounds like she’s trying to hold herself together. “Jemma, you need to eat something. Look, I’ve brought you some sandwiches. And cake. Come on, just a little bit, alright? You need it. You need the energy.”

“Not hungry,” Jemma says automatically, because she’s supposed to say these words. She frowns and shakes her head, slowly remembering she’s just living through another memory. It’s not real. It’s long gone and this image of Daisy won’t care what she does. She looks up and freezes when she sees Fitz, standing opposite her, staring at Daisy with wide eyes. “Jemma,” he says. “What …”

Jemma sighs, closing her hand around the ring again. “This is the Lighthouse. Shortly after you … after your death. First, I didn’t know how to feel. Then, I felt too much. It overwhelmed me. I tried to put it in the box too. Didn’t really work. Wherever I looked, you were there. A memory of you in every corner of the Lighthouse. Sometimes, I fell asleep on one of your shirts, because I felt so lost.”

Fitz’s eyes fill with desperate pain. “Jesus, Jemma.”

She smiles bitterly. “Well. This room was kind of _my_ prison. I put myself into it and tried to lock the door. But they … Daisy and the others, they didn’t leave me alone. They kept coming, kept asking me to do things I just didn’t have the energy to. So, I … I snapped at them. More than once. I even threw a book after Mack one time. But they didn’t go away. They didn’t give up. Mack tried to get me to accept. May told me it is okay to get angry and yell and punch something. Daisy … Daisy was crying together with me so often. She took your death hard, Fitz. So hard. Especially after …” She stops, feeling nauseous at the new memory. No. She can’t tell him. Not now. Not _here_.

“After what?” Fitz asks hoarsely. “What happened, Jemma?”

Jemma exhales shakily. “When I tell you, it will hurt you. A lot. I don’t know what will happen, Fitz. Maybe our demons are tired of playing with each other and decide to come back to play with us. Torture us a little bit more. I can’t do that again, Fitz. It _hurt_.”

Fitz makes a desperate noise and grabs his hand, squeezing it. “It’s too late, Jemma. We’re already in this. Deep. Maybe the key to escaping this is dealing with what we locked away. I felt better after I told you about the prison.”

“No. You don’t understand, Fitz. This … What happened to Daisy was you.”

“What?” Fitz asks stunned.

Jemma shakes her head. She doesn’t want to live through this again. But when she looks at the memory of Daisy, holding the plate of sandwiches and looking down at her with deep sadness, she knows it’s too late indeed. The scenery already changes.

“I guess I’m not telling you. I’m showing you,” she whispers, anxiety making her throat feel tight.

She doesn’t notice if Fitz says something, she’s already standing in Daisy’s room, feeling tears in her eyes. She’s desperate. She wants to be there for Daisy, but she also wants to help the man she loves. The man who is locked up with his demons and his guilt.

In front of her, Daisy walks back and forth, her hands clenched into tight fists. There’s a bandage wrapped around her head.

May is leaning against the wall, her arms crossed. “Daisy,” she says firmly. “Try to control your emotions …”

“Are you serious?” Daisy snaps. “Fitz just strapped me to a gurney and cut into me while I was conscious! I didn’t want my powers back. Apparently, it doesn’t matter what I want, it’s just done anyway.” She snorts. “All for the greater good, right? And she!” Daisy points at Jemma with a shaking finger, her eyes shooting daggers. “She’s still protecting him!”

Jemma swallows. It hurts to see this look in Daisy’s eyes ... What’s happening? They are _friends._  
“I just said, it might not be a good idea to leave him all by himself. He’s struggling. It isn’t right. I …”

“He’s sick! And dangerous. We don’t know if this might happen again. His robot pointed a gun to your head Jemma!”

Jemma bites her lip. “His mind went through a lot, Daisy. I’m not excusing what he did to you, I’m not asking you to forgive him. I’m just begging you to let me help him. He pushed himself too hard. He wasn’t sleeping or eating or telling anyone about –“ She stops, apparently realizing she has experienced this moment before. “Fitz,” she says and turns around to him, her eyes filled with sadness and regret. “I’m so sorry.”

He’s standing in front of her, his mouth open and his eyes filled with shock and disbelief. “What …” He looks at Daisy, who stares at Jemma with a combination of rage and sadness and feels his hand starting to tremble. “Oh God.”

Jemma takes a step towards him, raising a hand. “Fitz … Listen. It has been a very difficult time. We have been on the edge. For weeks. The world was about to end and there was a rift between dimensions, releasing our greatest fears. You tried so hard to find a solution. You … It was too much stress and instead of taking a time out, you kept on trying …”

Fitz looks from her to Daisy, who now sinks down on her bed, hugging herself and starting to cry silent tears. After a moment, May joins her, laying an arm around her. Her eyes soften and she whispers something in Daisy’s ear he can’t understand.

“I hurt her,” he says dully. “I hurt Daisy. I … Why?!”

“The Kree took her power. They implanted an inhibitor into her, that would suppress them and release them whenever they wanted it. With her power Daisy could close the rift. You … When you realized this, you had a psychic split. You thought The Doctor came out of the rift and was going after Daisy, but in fact, it was you. You took the inhibitor out …” She stops, her eyes filling with tears.

“Oh God. I … I think I’m going to be sick,” Fitz breathes, feeling his stomach clench. He bends over, pressing his hand on it. Daisy … How could he do this? How could he cut into his friend … How. He groans.

“Fitz …” Jemma reaches for him timidly.  

“Don’t touch me!” He backs away, breathing heavily. “I have to … I can’t … I …”

_I have to get out of here._

“Fitz,” Jemma says again, barely audible. She looks like she can read his thoughts. “Don’t do this. There’s nowhere to go.”

But he tries anyway. It’s too much. He turns around and runs.

 

* * *

  
  
He’s sitting on the floor in a hallway, trying to get his breathing under control.

Jemma’s and Daisy’s words echo in his head like a nightmare gone real.

_He’s sick. Dangerous._

_His mind has been through a lot._

  
Fitz groans and wipes his face. His hand comes back soaked in sweat.   
  
How long have they been in this mind prison? It feels like ages.

He’s tired. Exhausted. Done with everything.

When they were in the pod, yelling at each other, he thought they would be alright. He thought it would get easier. Especially after seeing Jemma’s shadow. After realizing with how much she has been struggling. How much she was trying to hold back. He felt less like he was the broken damaged shell of a man pulling her down if he’d let too much of his pain escape. But now … He feels like this might never end and they might never be okay. How is he supposed to live with the knowledge that he traumatised Daisy. How …

“Good, look at you. Sitting there on the floor like a beaten puppy. Are you about to cry, huh?” A cold arrogant voice floats through the void, slow firm steps approaching.

Fitz shivers. Oh God. Please not this. He can’t stand another round of this.

“You can’t just wish me away. This is your mind. And I’m in it if you like it or not. In fact, I got much more breathing space since you got trapped in here.” The Doctor chuckles low.

Fitz feels a hint of anger. He looks up, seeing how his shadow comes closer, cleaning a scalpel with a white cloth, staring at Fitz with cold curiosity.

“You’re not real,” Fitz tells him and gets up, raising his chin. “You’re just a hallucination. A leftover of the Framework. You have no control over me.”

The Doctor raises his eyebrows. “Do you really think so? Well. Why are you scared of me then?”

“I’m not scared. I’m disgusted. What did you to Daisy?!”

The Doctor smirks. “What you weren’t able to. I saved your pathetic friends. You’re welcome.”

“You hurt her,” Fitz whispers. “You hurt my friend. She will never forget. Never forgive …”

“I did what was necessary. And you let me. You said we can’t go back.” The Doctor says coldly and takes another step towards Fitz. “I was right. I’m a better version of you. I’m not held back by your stupid morals, by your ridiculous feelings. By your weakness. I saved us more than once. It was me who made the Chronicom talk. It was me who shot the military at the base, so you could escape with your little stupid spaceship.”

Fitz shudders. He backs away but there’s no escape. Just the cold wall behind him. He presses his back against it while The Doctor comes closer still, a predatory smile on his face. “I’m everything you not. And –“ He reaches out and grabs Fitz’s throat. “I am so much stronger than you. I could just … take over your mind. Now.” He squeezes and Fitz gasps for air, frozen in place.

_No …_

Jemma comes running around a corner, looking at the scene in front of her shocked. “Fitz! You have to fight this. Remember he’s not real. He’s a shadow. He’s … just a part of you. A

_Every light needs a shadow …_

Hunter once said that to him. Sometime in the past. Fitz didn’t want to believe it back then. He just wanted to get rid of the voice inside him. But he remembers seeing his and Jemma’s shadows intertwined and realizes, it’s just the truth. They are darker parts of them. They just had to control them, letting them out only if they had to, but to do good, not bad.

Fitz closes his eyes for a moment. _You’re me_ , he thinks. _You’re me but I can control you._ _I can send you back and I can let you out. If I have to. You’re just a part of me … Nothing more. Nothing less._

As soon as he has brought the thought to an end, the hand around his neck disappears. Fitz gasps and falls to the floor, curling into himself. Jemma is there, reaching for him. “Fitz …” Her fingers run over his throat, over a dark bruise spreading there. “Oh Fitz …”

He looks up at her helplessly. “He said I let him do it,” he whispers. “Let him hurt Daisy. Approved of it. Jemma … how am I supposed to deal with this?”

“ _You_ didn’t do it, Fitz. You …”

“But the fact alone that I would be capable of doing this is enough, don’t you see it?!” He pulls at his own hair, the pain overwhelming him. “This is too much … I can’t … I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m tired. I’m tired of everything.”

“Fitz …” Jemma wants to tell him they will get through this, but suddenly, the surroundings change once again and she sits on the edge of a bed, letting out a surprised gasp.  

She looks around and her stomach drops.

_Oh._

This is a children’s room. It’s a bit of a mess. There are Lego laying around, heaps of books in the corners. And wherever she looks, there are monkeys. On posters on the wall, on the carpet, on the blanket, under which someone breathes very quickly.

“Fitz …” Jemma whispers. She reaches for the blanket and carefully lifts it a bit. Her breath falters. A little boy cowers there, cradling a stuffed monkey to his chest, staring at her with wide eyes. This is one of Fitz’s childhood memories, she realizes. And when he looks so scared, it can’t be a particular good one …

Somewhere downstairs, a glass shatters. Jemma flinches. Fitz – no, he would still be Leo at this point – whimpers. Jemma swallows and carefully touches the boy’s trembling shoulder. “Hey. Don’t be scared. It … it will be over soon.” Hopefully.  

“I know,” Leo says, to her surprise, sounding serious. “This is the evening HE leaves. He leaves and never comes back.”

Jemma swallows. She can hear his father, Alistair, shouting insults downstairs. Something else shatters.

Leo’s eyes well up. But he wipes at them furiously.

“Oh Fitz.” Jemma wants to hug him, but she doesn’t know how he’s going to react in this state. Her own eyes fill with tears, one escaping and running over her face down to her chin. It drops on Leo’s monkey blanket. “It’s okay if you cry.”

Leo scrunches up his nose. “No, it’s not. Daddy says tears are for the weak. He doesn’t like tears. So, don’t cry. You have to hold it back.”

Jemma bites her lip. This hurts so much. Being a witness to Fitz’s childhood trauma feels intruding. His father continues screaming downstairs. She wishes she could make him stop.

“You killed him,” Leo says abruptly. It sounds accusing.

“What?” A shiver runs over Jemma’s spine.

“You killed him in the Framework.”

“That … that was an accident. I didn’t want to do it.”

“But it haunts you.”

Oh yes. It does. She still sees his open eyes and can hear Leopold’s worried voice asking for him. She sighs. Is this nightmare ever going to end? Or are they going to be here forever, destroying each other with their memories bit by bit?  

Leo buries his nose in the stuffed monkey’s fur and murmurs, “I want it to stop.” It’s a terrifying echo of the adult Fitz.

Jemma nods. She reaches out, offering him her hand. _I have an idea, Fitz. I hope this works_. “Me too. Come on. Let’s go somewhere safe.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Leo takes her hand.

Jemma closes her eyes and concentrates.

 

* * *

 

  
When she opens her eyes again, there are whirring noises around her. She’s sitting on a bed in a tiny bunk. Fitz is  beside her, looking around with wide eyes. “Jemma. It’s …”

“Yes. The Zephyr,” she breathes, glad it worked and they are finally somewhere they can almost call home.

Fitz exhales shakily. He looks at her from the corners of his eyes. “Uh. This memory. I …”

“You don’t have to talk about it now, Fitz. Not if you don’t want to. I think we deserve a break.”

He nods, looking down at his hands with a frown. “I don’t know if we will ever escape, Jemma. We could be caught in here forever, together with all these memories. We don’t even know if our minds or brains could be damaged by this. Maybe we should at least try to find a way to build this stupid time travel machine. At least it would distract us.”

Jemma sighs. She moves closer to Fitz, cupping his face in both hands. “I don’t know. Don’t know what is going to happen next. But … Honestly, I start to think I don’t care if we escape. We are together and we can somehow control this mess. And I’m sorry I can’t give you back the time you missed; I really am … But I can give you me. Now and forever.”

Fitz inhales shakily and smiles at her, laying his hand on hers. “The whole universe couldn't keep me from you, Jemma Simmons. And … I am the luckiest man on any planet.”

She swallows when she remembers he said the same words before. In a memory, they didn’t share yet. They could. Maybe. If Fitz wanted to …

Before she can say something else, there’s a noise and Althara appears in front of them, staring at them indifferently. “Well that was 5 minutes and 33 seconds wasted. Are you ready to get back to work?”

Fitz gets up, clenching his hands into fists. “No. Okay, listen. I'm sorry about what happened to your planet, and I really want to help Enoch, but time travel is a nasty business. And I don't know that I want to be any part of it. It already turned out to be a mess. Never again.”

Jemma gets up too, standing beside Fitz. “So, if we have to spend the rest of our days in this prison together, then so be it,” she says firmly, taking Fitz’s hand.

The Chronicom stares at them and says coldly, “You won't be together. You’ll …”

She doesn’t end the sentence. Instead, there’s a high pitches screeching and the next moment she disappears.

Fitz looks at Jemma in surprise. He opens his mouth but before he can say anything, there’s a white light and –  
  


* * *

 

  
\- Jemma gasps, sitting up. She blinks, trying to focus. Everyhing is quite blurry around her and her head – God, it’s a mess.

She presses a hand against it and suddenly hears a voice.

“Jemma?”

Fitz. Oh God. Fitz.

She gets up, climbing out of what seems to be a capsule and she sees Fitz approaching her on unsteady legs, his arms open. She sinks into his embrace with a sob, hugging him as close as she can, her hands grabbing at him firmly. “Fitz … Oh Fitz.”

“Jemma …”

They part and look at each other, smiling, before noticing there’s someone watching them. Fitz gasps. “Enoch?!”

The Chronicom is holding a weapon in his hand, staring down at the floor, where a lot of Chronicoms are laying, motionless. “I have taken bold action,” he says soberly, looking up at Fitz and Jemma. “We must go.”

Fitz and Jemma nod, relieve and hope coming back in a rush.

They were going home.

Finally.

**Author's Note:**

> Look, I made it angstier (but like always it will have a hopeful ending). Let's be real, this is just me, picturing some scenarios I would have liked to see in the episode as well. Which is awesome by the way. It's so much more than I expected and I have a lot of feelings about it.
> 
> Also I decided to not add another chapter to this, I'm not feeling that happy about the story :3  
> Maybe I'll write a reunion with the team in another One Shot. 
> 
> I'm not a native speaker and always grateful for being corrected! I'm constantly trying to improve my English, so please don't hesitate to tell me about mistakes. <3
> 
> Visit me on tumblr: [ready-to-kick-some-ass](https://ready-to-kick-some-ass.tumblr.com/) :)


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